


we'll lay here for years or for hours, your hand in my hand, so still and discreet

by Fabelhaft (Blue_Blood_Monarch)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aristocracy, Butlers, F/M, Fluff, Pet Names, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 09:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22253689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Blood_Monarch/pseuds/Fabelhaft
Summary: Her fingers tightened on the stem of her glass, throat suddenly dry. If she thought the countryside was beautiful in the glow of the sun, Arthur was ethereal. The warm rays of the sun settled on him, lightening his hair, almost making his skin glow. It highlighted his features, already handsome, to something strong and regal, but softened them, too. He looked, some part of her thought stupidly, like some kind of sun god. “Gwen,” she blurted suddenly, flushing even more. “I thought we’d agreed that you would call me Gwen when we are alone.” She added, smoother this time.-Or, the Butler!Arthur rich!Gwen AU where the roles are reversed, featuring a secret relationship, lingering touches and plenty of fluff and pet names
Relationships: Arthur Pendragon & Percival (Merlin), Elyan & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Elyan & Gwen (Merlin), Gwaine & Merlin (Merlin), Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin), Gwen & Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	we'll lay here for years or for hours, your hand in my hand, so still and discreet

**Author's Note:**

> I reread Pride and Prejudice and just had to

The countryside was beautiful this time of year, Gwen thought. The days were cold and short, but when the sun sunk below the rolling hills, reaching with long fingers to paint crimson streaks across the sky, it painted a picture that never failed to take her breath away. Champagne flute dangling from slender fingers, she leant over the balcony, drinking in the view, feeling a sense of peace slide over her. It was like sliding into a bath, coming back to the old family home; warm and comforting. It was a sense of belonging she had never managed to achieve in the outside world- albeit a small world, consisting only of university. She had lived a rather sheltered life which hadn’t helped her develop any of the dazzling social skills shared amongst her peers, unfortunately, and so she remained fairly solitary. Born a younger sister, she lived by herself with her father after her brother left home. She had been looking forward to university, to making friends, perhaps even gaining a boyfriend, but life rarely works out like how one wants. 

She was comfortable with her lone status, though. She was used to it, so she wasn't too disheartened. In fact, she had found her own company preferable to many of her peers’. They were too… different. She couldn't relate to them, or them to her. A part of her, however, craved a connection like those she’d witnessed in amongst her fellow students. A deeper, more intimate and emotional connection than that which she had managed to form with the odd acquaintance or passing friend. She’d managed to befriend Merlin, a bedraggled and endearingly clumsy scholarship student, and a few others from her course, but it wasn’t what she yearned for. 

She sighed, sipping at her champagne, closing her eyes against the gentle breeze toying with the wisps of her hair that had escaped from her bun. Her father, bless him, had been excited to have her back home for the holidays, and had thrown her a party, but, even this early on, all she wanted to do was climb into the bath and then roll into bed. 

“Alright, Miss Smith?”

She jumped, startled by the unexpected company, even if she recognised the smooth voice, oddly soft. “Arthur!”

She spun, catching the slight curve of his lips and amused twinkle in his blue eyes. “Refil?” He offered smoothly, holding up a bottle of champagne for inspection. 

“No, thank you,” she declined, with none of his easy grace, feeling her face flush. Awkwardly, she held up her glass, still half full, as if to say  _ see? _

His lips twitched, but, professional and good-sporting as ever, he simply inclined his head in easy acknowledgement. “Of course.”

Her fingers tightened on the stem of her glass, throat suddenly dry. If she thought the countryside was beautiful in the glow of the sun, Arthur was ethereal. The warm rays of the sun settled on him, lightening his hair, almost making his skin glow. It highlighted his features, already handsome, to something strong and regal, but softened them, too. He looked, some part of her thought stupidly, like some kind of sun god. “Gwen,” she blurted suddenly, flushing even more. “I thought we’d agreed that you would call me Gwen when we are alone.” She added, smoother this time. 

He smiled indulgently and, damn him, she went slightly breathless and weak-kneed in the face of it. “But where is the fun in that?”

She wanted to laugh at his playfulness, but was slightly afraid that she’d more likely dissolve into nervous giggling than the well-cultured, elegantly seductive laugh a woman like her should have, so she pursed her lips against it. “Arthur.” 

His smile widened slightly. “Guinevere,” he conceded with an exaggerated bow, champagne bottle held behind his back. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead allowing her smile to turn slightly fond. “It’s good to have you back,” he added softly, stepping closer, returning to his usual, professional seriousness. His eyes, though, they were never professional. They always gave him away; they smiled when his face did not, true windows to the Arthur behind his masks. 

Her breath hitched as he came close enough for her to feel the heat from him, warm and solid. He always was the bolder one of the two in their little dance. “It’s good to be back,” she managed to agree, eyes locked on his.  _ I missed you. I missed your touch, I missed your smile; I missed the blue of your eyes, the way your lips quirk slightly when you’re trying not to smile in front of my father. _ Words unspoken, but understood nonetheless. 

His eyes, so warm for such a cool shade of blue, were telling her everything she needed to know. How much he missed her, how happy he was to see her. It was his eyes she had first fallen in love with, and, then, through stolen moments and kisses, secret touches and smiles, she had fallen in love with the rest of him. It was, tragically, confined to those secret moments together, though, moments like these where they were alone and overcome with their emotions; their silent infatuation. It stole the breath from her chest, violent in its swiftness. “Guinevere,” he breathed on an inhale, eyes scanning her face, no doubt seeing all of his longing reflected back at him. 

“Gwen! What are you doing out here in the cold?”

They both started at her Father's voice, flute slipping from her hand and dropping to the ground like a stone, smashing into shards, flinchingly loud in the sudden silence. Arthur recovered first, murmuring a "Mister Smith," before stepping past the man, no doubt to get something to clean the glass up with, leaving Gwen red-faced and stuttering through an explanation. 

"Pa! I- we were just- Arthur- I just wanted some air and he-"

"Calm down, Gwen," her father laughed, amused. "If you go any redder I fear you'll burst." She smiled weakly. "I see you're no less graceful," he tutted with a shake of his head. "You're lucky you didn't drop it on that poor boy's foot."

"You startled me. I just stepped out for some air and he offered me a refill. I wasn't expecting you to notice I was gone."

Her father's gaze turned knowing, but he let her have her half-truth. He stood next to her, a companionable silence settling over them. "You're not enjoying the party?"

She winced. She’d never been one for the extravagant parties he adored, nor the pleasantries decorum demanded she exchange with the guests. But, her father loved them, and she hated disappointing him. “No, the party’s great. You’ve outdone yourself,” she reassured him. “I’m just tired, is all.” She offered him a smile; hopefully it didn’t look as wan or as much of a grimace as it felt. She reached to squeeze his hand. “I love you, Dad.”

He smiled, bright and warm, squeezing her hand back. “I love you too, Gwenny. And of course, I’m sorry, I should have realised you’d be tired.”

Her smile warmed slightly. "It's good to be home, though. Come on, then. Let's go back in, shall we?"

She didn't see Arthur again for the rest of the night. 

* * *

She spent the next week feeling like she never left; reading in the sun room, sipping cups of tea and losing herself in fantastical, perfect worlds, coming home felt like putting on an old, cozy jumper. Sometimes, though, when she was tending to the garden, or dining with her father, trying unsuccessfully not to sneak glances at Arthur, it felt like that jumper had shrunk slightly. Too tight in the wrong places, something she’d outgrown and was ready to move on from. 

“Arthur, you’ll have to give the chef my compliments,” Tom was saying as he sipped at his wine, obviously satisfied with his meal.

Gwen was merely picking at hers, pushing it around the plate more than she was actually eating it, her appetite somewhat absent. 

“I will,” Arthur smiled, as he refilled Tom’s glass. “I’m sure she’ll be delighted to hear that you enjoyed it.”

“Yes, yes,” Tom agreed absently, keen eyes on Gwen. “Not hungry, dear?”

Gwen placed down her fork, placing her hands on her knees beneath the table as she forced a smile. “Unfortunately not, though it’s no insult to Sefa.” She felt herself redden under the attention of both Arthur, who had also been trying to meet her gaze all night, his hand brushing hers deliberately when he stooped to refill her glass, and her father. “I’m afraid that’s me quite done for the night.” She stood, bending to press a kiss to her father’s cheek and bid him a good night as she walked past him, ready for a night of reading until her eyes refused to stay open, falling asleep to a cold and empty bed.

* * *

She did exactly that, and was, in fact, still soaking in the bathtub when there was a gentle knock at the door. “Come in.” There were enough bubbles covering the water for her modesty to be preserved. 

“Guinevere,” Arthur greeted with a small, unsure smile. “It would seem your father’s done with my services for the night.”

Surprised, she returned his smile, heart rate increasing slightly, tilting her head playfully. “Oh, dear. It would seem it’s up to me to find you something to do then.”

He grinned, looking relieved. “So it would,” he agreed, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. His hair was already starting to curl slightly in the humid air from her hot bath water. “I,” he continued to step closer, carefully removing his jacket and rolling up his sleeves, “Am at your service.” The playful spark in his eye made them twinkle in the candlelight. 

He moved the stool that sat beside the bath and straddled it, hands reaching for her hair as she leaned her head back. It wasn’t often they did this, when Arthur would seek her out in her room and they would spend the night together, unable to keep their hands to themselves, but she loved it when he did. Loved the feel of his gentle but firm hands through her hair, massaging her scalp as he washed it. 

Silence fell over them as he worked, coaxing her into a sleepy state. She almost missed it when he spoke. “You’ve been avoiding me.” His voice, laced with hurt and insecurity, well masked but still there, made her wince. “I’ve barely seen you without your father there since the party.”

“Arthur-”

“Did you meet someone? At university?” He cut her off, blurting the words as if they took all his courage to say, as if he couldn't bare the thought. His hands dropped to her shoulders, rubbing them, gentle and contrasting to the thread in his voice. 

“No.” Because she didn’t. Part of her had been hoping she would, that she’d be able to leave Arthur behind. It would be best for the both of them- this dance the two of them were doing, the facade they had to hide behind, it took its toll. It wore her down greatly, and she knew it did to Arthur. “No, I didn’t.”

“Then why?” He sounded relieved, if only somewhat, and it sent her stomach clenching, guilty. “You love me, I know that. Do you… do you regret being with me?” He swallowed, hands tightening slightly on her shoulders. When he spoke again, it was uneven, more rushed than his usually, perfectly poised and elocute manner of speaking. “It’s hard, I know, Gwen, but…” His words trailed off, and she held her breath against the tension in the room. “I want nothing more than to tell the world that I love you, that, despite it all, we love and belong to each other. I want to shower you with all the love you deserve. To show you off, give you what you deserve-  _ be _ what you deserve. There is nothing I want more, but… your father, and mine...”

“Arthur, I  _ know _ .” And she did. She had initiated this thing between them, and she had done it knowing what it would be. 

His hands moved up to her temples, grazing the sides of her neck, her jaw, her cheeks, sending a shiver up her spine. “But a part of you wants more.”

Ye

As much as she hated it, yes. A part of her  _ did _ want more. Wanted a relationship that her father  _ would _ approve of, that she could show to the world. 

She felt him rest his forehead on the top of her head, hands trembling as they smoothed down her hair. “I’m sorry.”

“ _ Arthur _ ,” she chastised. “I’m not saying I want us to end. I love you- I love you with all my heart and nothing will change that, but yes. It’s  _ hard _ , the secrecy, only having stolen moments with you. I want  _ more _ . I want to be able to hold your hand and sit next to you at dinner, want to kiss you whenever I want to, not only in dark, shadowed corners. I want to have you and damn everyone else. I just… needed some time to remember that."

The thing about Arthur was that he was a lot more vulnerable and needy than she had ever imagined. She wasn’t the only one that wanted to be loved without restraint, that wanted something more, something more tender than the half-formed thing they’d forged between them. 

“I love you, Guinevere,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple before reaching for a towel. “Always and forever. One day, one day you won’t be the only one that knows that. I promise.”

She clutched that promise to her heart, greedily. 

It would be enough, for now. Because he was right; when the time was right, she would come clean to her father. He loved her, had loved her mother. He would understand. 

But, for now, it was better not to risk it.

* * *

“Will you read to me?” She asked as they lay on the bed together, dry and warm. Cozy. Head pillowed on his chest, she could almost pretend they did this every night, that they were a normal couple. 

“Of course.” He accepted the book she handed him, sitting up and moving her so that her head rested on his lap. “Comfy?” His right hand dropped to her head, stroking her hair. 

“Very,” she confirmed, stretching out her legs and flexing her toes. 

“Good.” He bent almost double to kiss her, making her snort in amusement, a pleased smile gracing her face. 

“Come on, I’m nearly at the end.”

He smiled indulgently, opening the book to where she had marked it, clearing his throat before he spoke. 

“ _ My daughter and my nephew are formed for each other. They are descended, on the maternal side, from the same noble line; and, on the father’s, from respectable, honourable, and ancient- though untitled- families. Their fortune on both sides is splendid. They are destined for each other by the voice of every member of their respective houses; and what is to divide them? The upstart pretensions of a young woman without family, connexions, or fortune. Is this to be endured! But it must not, shall not be! If you were sensible of your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere in which you have been brought up.’ _

_ ‘In marrying your nephew, I should not consider myself quitting that sphere. He is a gentleman; I am a gentleman’s daughter: so far we are equal.’ _

_ ‘Trre. You  _ are _ a gentleman’s daughter. But who was your mother? Who are your uncles and aunts? Do not imagine me ignorant of their condition.’ _

_ ‘Whatever my connexions may be,’ said Elizabeth, ‘if your nephew does not object to them, they can be nothing to  _ you _ ’ _ .”

He paused, hand stilling. It was… off putting, how clearly he could see himself and Gwen reflected in Darcy and Elizabeth; although, he noted, amused, he was, in this situation, Elizabeth, it would seem.

"Maybe she's right," he found himself saying. "Maybe we should just screw it and stop hiding and fuck anyone that disapproves. I don't care much for polite society and its approval, anyway."

Gwen hummed, hand on his thigh. "No," she agreed, smiling. "No, you don't, do you?"

Arthur remained silent for a moment longer, but when it was clear nothing more would be added, he went back to the book, mind distant.

Gwen's admission in the bath had shaken him, admittedly. He'd hated her avoidance of him and it hurt that she would even consider leaving him.

He had to do something, he knew, or he would lose her.

* * *

They went to town the next day. Gwen had wanted to go alone, but Arthur had managed to convince her- and, more importantly, her father- that she would benefit from an escort. 

They walked beside each other, shoulders bumping, hands brushing, as she window shopped, cooing and ahhing as things caught her eye. 

"Isn't it pretty?" It was a dress; crimson and regal. Easily the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

He smiled indulgently. "Very," he agreed, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Shall we?" He gestured to the shop door, but she shook her head.

"No. No, it's okay."

"No?" He raised an eyebrow, and she smiled.

"Wouldn't suit me," she shrugged. "Come on, I want an ice cream."

He smiled, like the sun peeking out from a cluster of clouds. "Its December!" he laughed. "You'll freeze! And then who will hold my hand and kiss me?" He pouted, making her laugh and kiss him.

"Nobody," she teased. 

He clutched his heart. "Evil," he swore. 

She rolled her eyes, but was betrayed by the smile she couldn't stop. "Ar _ thur _ ."

He grinned, eyes twinkling with mirth. "Whatever my lady wants," he conceded dramatically. "Let us go devour these ice creams and doughnuts," he declared grandly, offering her his arm with a flourish.

She laughed, slipping her elbow in his. "You're such a dork."

His smile turned fond. "You love it

"God help me but I do."

He paid for the ice cream, and in return she bought him his doughnuts, greasy, deep-fried things covered in cinnamon, and he munched on them happily as she licked at her dessert, not even making a comment on her choice of mint as he usually did. 

_ "It's like eating toothpaste," he complained, scrunching his nose up in distaste as he took a lick of her ice cream. "And there is nothing you can say to convince me otherwise," he warned, the slight quirking of his lips betraying his seriousness. "Vanilla is superior." _

_ She laughed. "You're so boring," she teased. "Vanilla?" _

_ "Hey!" He protested, laughing. "It's popular for a reason." _

_ "You keep telling yourself that," she hummed, stealing a lick of his vanilla ice cream before swooping in to kiss the tip of his nose, leaving it slightly sticky.  _

_ "Gross." _

_ She laughed, catching his hand and entwining their fingers. He squeezed her hand, swinging it slightly as they walked. "Baby." _

"Gwen?" She blinked, pulled from the memory by Arthurs curious gaze. "Lost you there for a second."

"Yeah. Sorry."

He hummed, offering her his last doughnut, which she declined. He shrugged, popping it in his mouth before reaching for her free hand. "Penny for your thoughts?"

She smiled. "I was thinking about last time we were here, eating ice cream together."

He grinned, crooked and perfect, delighted. "You remember that?"

"Of course. It was just before I left for uni. I was so nervous."

He smiled, squeezing his hand. "And I told you that you had no reason to be. I knew you'd do great."

She smiled. "I'm surprised that  _ you _ remember it though."

"Of course I do," he replied easily. "It was one of the best days of my life." He smiled to himself. "You looked so beautiful. You were wearing your yellow dress, remember? You look so cute in that." His whole face softened, lost in the memory. "And you had your hair in a bun; God, all I could see was your neck. It's gorgeous. You have a gorgeous neck," he informed her seriously. "Very elegant. I wanted to kiss it, the whole day." She laughed. "I didn't want that day to end. Didn't want to say goodbye. We didn't have to hide- nobody knows us here. We're not Miss Smith and her butler, we're just Arthur and Gwen. It was perfect."

She smiled. "It was, wasn't it?"

He raised her hand to his lips, kissing it absently. "I thought it would be one of our last days together," he admitted. "I thought I'd be able to let you go, that you'd find somebody at university that would be easier to love, and that I could be happy for you. But… that was the day I realised. I realised that I could never let you go, could never bare to see you happy with somebody else, as selfish as that is. I was terrified. Terrified that you  _ would _ find somebody else, that you'd come home, and I'd know. I'd know because your eyes tell me everything, Guienevere. They'd be so sad, so guilty, and I'd know. It would break me. And," he broke off, grip tightening on her hand as he swallowed, voice breaking. "I was so relieved when you came home and you hadn't. So relieved. I felt awful about it, but I couldn't help but be relieved. And then you started avoiding me."

It wasn't an accusation, but her lips downturned anyway, unhappy.

"I tried to give you space, but I'm helpless to resist you."

She squeezed his hand. "There's nobody else for me," she said, honest and true. His eyes met hers, searching, and brightened slightly. "You're it."

"And you're it for me," he agreed. 

It felt like a vow, and that thought should have been terrifying, but it settled in her bones, in her heart, and it felt  _ right _ . Like it was meant to be; like they had spent their whole lives leading up to this, like they were two halves fusing into a whole when they hadn't even realised they weren't a whole to begin with. 

It felt inevitable. 

* * *

"You should invite some of your friends over, Gwen. It's nearly Christmas, surely you'd like to have them for a little holiday party?"

Gwen smiled. Maybe some of them would come; a small party sounded quite nuce, actually. "That sounds lovely," she agreed. "You'll love them."

Tom smiled fondly, placing his hand hers on the arm of the chair. "I'm sure I will. And if you managed to catch yourself a boyfriend you should invite him too," he grinned, waggling his eyebrows. "I'm cool. I'm chill," he winked.

She laughed, almost hysterically, until her eyes began to water and her sides ached. "Never say that again," she advised once she caught her breath.

He smiled. "So  _ should _ I be expecting a special boy? I'll have to give him the Talk, you know," he informed her gravely, adding significant weight to the word. 

She rolled her eyes. "No," she sighed, a bolt of sadness landing through her heart. "No, I'm afraid not." Because her special boy was already here, but nobody could know. 

He patted her hand comfortingly. "You're a beautiful girl, Gwen. There's no rush. You'll have the boys eating out of your hand, no doubt about it."

She smiled, pulling him in for a hug, comforted by the familiarity of it. "Maybe."

"Come on," he said when she pulled away. "Why don't we see a movie? Just you and me, like old times."

Her smile was slightly watery, but it was genuine. "I'd love that."

* * *

Another day closer to Christmas, and her father was out Chrstimas shopping, leaving her to enjoy the empty house. She was reading, Arthur hovering nearby and bringing her biscuits occasionally with a cheeky kiss, when her phone rang. It was a number that she didn't recognise and she answered it hesitantly. 

"Hello?" 

"Gwen?" It was cautious, her brothers voice small and sheepish, but unmistakably his.

Her stomach dropped and her blood ran cold in shock. " _ Elyan _ ?!"

Arthur's head shot round, concerned, but her focus was solely on the phone in her iron grip, on the voice that had shaken her so deeply.

"What do you want?" It came out harsher than intended, but she didn't bother rectifying it.

"I-," he broke off with a wry laugh. "An apology isn't going to cut it, I know, but I  _ am _ sorry. I'm sorry, Gwen, for everything, but I want to see you. I'll be in town soon, for Christmas. Can I drop in?"

She swallowed painfully, her mouth suddenly bone dry. "I- I don't know, Elyan." 

Arthur had come over, silent and supportive, and he dropped a hand to her shoulder. The weight and warmth of it was comforting, grounding, and she was so pathetically grateful for it. 

"Gwen, please."

She closed her eyes. She didn't have it in her to be cruel. She was a healer, a giver. Comforting people, giving them her all, was what she did. Seeing people in pain  _ hurt _ her, and it was hard hearing Elyan so hurt. She was conflicted; part of her, the part that had still been a little girl when she had been abandoned by her brother, the person she had loved most dearly in the world, wanted to feel the ugly stab if satisfaction. The other part, the part that made her Gwen, wanted to forgive him, wanted to reconcile with him.

"I'll talk to father. It's up to him."

There was a pause, then a very quiet 'thank you' before he hung up.

She could feel a headache forming.

"Gwen.  _ Gwen _ ." Arthur pried at her fingers, gently taking the phone from them as she remained frozen, pressing a fleeting kiss to her fingertips before setting the phone down next to her. He knew it down before her, nudging her knee. "Hey."

It felt like the was moving through mud; like her body was a good two seconds behind her mind as she dragged her gaze down to him. "Hi," she croaked, clutching at his hand.

"Gwen, what's wrong?"

He looked so concerned, so scared, that she forced herself to smile reassuringly. "It was Elyan. My brother."

"Ah." His lips pursed in realisation. "It's okay," he murmured, rubbing circles on the inside of her wrist with his thumb. "Hey, its okay," he soothed. "C'mon, scoot over."

She must have moved, because the next thing she knew was Arthur pulling her head towards his chest, the steady thump of his heart more comforting than she had ever realised. "Its okay," he repeated, rubbing circles on her back. "Its okay."

She clutched at his chest, feeling her breathing slowly even out, her heart settling to match his tempo. "My father," She managed eventually, only to be shushed. 

"He's out, remember? We're safe," he promised. "Don't worry about that, darling."

She laughed wetly. "Darling?"

"You don't like it?"

She considered. "I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe?" 

"That's okay. We'll find one you like."

She smiled, a silence settling over them as he waited for her to speak.

"It was my brother. Elyan."

Arthur made an inquiring sound, but otherwise didn't press.

"He found it hard when Mum died." She swallowed, fingers playing with Arthur's collar. "He left. Sent the odd postcard over the years from all over, but otherwise we haven't heard from him since. And now he wants to come home, like be didn't leave us. Leave  _ me _ ."

Arthur hummed, a rumble against her cheek. "You're angry."

She bit her lip, dipping her head slightly in confirmation. "I can't help it. I hate how angry I am, but I feel betrayed. Is that bad?"

"No. No, it's not." He huffed, amused. "I'm not sure I've ever seen you angry before, though."

"I get angry."

"You cried the other day when you buried that bird. You are, quite literally, an angel."

She laughed. "Angel," she mused. "Yes, I like that." She sighed. "I  _ want _ to forgive him, though. We used to be so close, I miss him."

Arthur kissed the top of her head. "There you go, then."

She huffed; Arthur always acted like everything was black and white- like life was so simple. It hardly ever was.

She was about to close her eyes and let herself nod off when they heard the front door open. "Gwenny? Where are you, love, I've got some new flowers for you to plant in the garden."

They shot up, Arthur bolting to his feet and hastily scrambling a few steps away as they heard Tom approach.

She cleared her throat, wiping her face before calling out to him. "In here, Dad!"

He wasn't kidding about the plants: they were beautiful. Petunias, hyacinths, even a couple of hydrangeas. 

"Dad!" She gasped, taking them from him. "They're beautiful!"

Tom beamed. "Just like you."

Gwen laughed, kissing his cheek. "Thank you, Pa. I'll have to put them in the greenhouse, though."

"No problem, dear. I'll go fetch a vase, hang on one tick."

As soon as he was gone, Arthur plucked a flower from her bunch tucking it behind her ear. "He was right," he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to her lips, "They are just as pretty as you."

She felt herself blush. 

"You're as pretty as a flower, Angel," he winked. 

* * *

Unfortunately, as it crept closer and closer to Christmas, the busier both she and Arthur were- her with her party planning and preparing for Elyan's arrival, and him with his butler duties- and the less they saw each other. 

She missed him dearly, and it was all she could do not to drag him into the nearest empty room and have her wicked way with him.

In fact, she thought with a sly grin, that wasn't a bad idea.

Tom didn't comment on Arthur serving them dinner that night with a bruise flowering on his neck, right under his jaw, too high to hide beneath his collar, but he did raise an eyebrow, which made Arthur blush and squirm.

Gwen couldn't stop staring at it.

* * *

The days passed in a similar fashion, until, before she knew it, the last few days before Christmas were upon them. 

"You're not heading home for the holidays?"

Her father would never demand that the staff would stay over the holidays, but most of them had families to go home to.

The chef had called in sick, that day, so the two of them had offered to cook the food for that nights dinner; it felt domestic, like they were an old married couple that had lived together for years. It soothed something inside of her, settled something she hadn't even realised was unsettled. 

Kneading the dough for the bread, Arthur shrugged. "No, Angel."

She bit her lip, concentrating as she diced the onion, blinking rapidly against the tears. "No?"

"What's there to go home to? My father? My  _ sister _ ?" He snorted. "That's a landmine waiting to go off," he assured her. "Every year they get into an ugly spat and drag me into it." He paused, glancing at her through his fringe. "I'd rather be with you." 

She smiled. "Tell me about them?"

"What's to tell? My father's a businessman. Built himself from the ground up." He paused, eyeing his ring that lay on the benchtop in front of them, a sudden cloud of sadness passing over his expression. "I've always been a disappointment to him."

Gwen placed the knife gingerly, hugging him from behind. "And your sister?" She asked, cheek pressed between his shoulder blades. 

She felt it as he huffed, felt the vibrations of his chest as he spoke. "She is everything my father stands against. She hates him, sometimes I think even she doesn't know how far that hatred runs."

"What do you mean?"

"My father is old, stubborn. Stuck in his ways."

"Bigoted," Gwen clarified dryly. "You mean bigoted."

"Yeah," Arthur sighed, shoulders moving as he kneaded. "Yeah, I do. And Morgana, she's a lesbian, she's outspoken: she believes in the complete opposite to him. They can't stand each other."

She hummed sympathetically. 

"It wears on me, sometimes," he admitted. "Being the buffer between them, being pulled in both ways. I love them both, but sometimes they act like my being loyal to one is a disloyalty to the other." He sighed, and she rubbed his bicep comfortingly. 

"Sounds tough," she agreed. 

He sighed, deep and weary, and she tightened her arms around him, wanting nothing more than to tuck him against her heart where he'd be safe from all of his worries and griefs. 

"I just wish they could get along. I hate it, it's like whatever I do I'm being an awful brother or son."

She rubbed his back, humming. "You love them both, and if they can't see that then that's on them, not you."

"I guess."

"Hey, c'mon." She nudged him until he turned and she could kiss his nose like he always did to her. It had the intended effect, making him smile. "There we go," she smiled, tracing along his cheekbone.

"You're good to me, Angel" he murmured, soft and intimate. His eyes were gentle, admiring. 

"And you're good to me."

He smiled, taking her hand kissing her thumb.

"Always," he swore. "Always."

* * *

Elyan arrived on Christmas Eve, mere hours before her party was due to start. 

"Elyan," she greeted when she opened the door surprised. "I didn't think you'd be able to make it until after Christmas."

Elyan shifted, sheepish. "I wanted to make an effort to be here for Christmas," he shrugged. "May I come in?"

"Of course." She stepped aside automatically, stomach coiling in knots as he passed her.

Seeing him again was somehow both easier and harder than she had expected. "Pa will be delighted."

He smiled. "Hopefully. I, uh, bought you two a little something for the holidays," he admitted, pulling two small boxes from his rucksack. 

"Thank you." She took them from him, wishing her thanks had been slightly more genuine. 

An awkward silence grew between them, suffocating and uneasy, until there was a throat being cleared, and a smooth, articulate voice shattering it as Arthur appeared, her knight in shining armour. "Mister Smith, may I take your coat?" She shot him a relieved look, getting an amused glint in his eye, though his expression remained perfectly professional. 

Elyan startled. "God," he laughed, "I forgot how weird it is, having a butler." He shrugged off his coat, passing it over. 

"Quite. May I say, sir, that it is a pleasure to have you home again for the holidays," Arthur agreed smoothly, smoothing out the coat. "There's a pot of tea in the sun room you're welcome to. I'll bring you some biscuits shortly."

Gwen, relieved at the direction, led Elyan through, pouring him a drink before sitting opposite him on the armchair, her book by her elbow. "I'm glad you're well," she said, after a few moments. "We worried." At his slight, almost unnoticeable flinch, her face softened. "We missed you." She leant forward, taking his hands in hers. 

"I missed you, too," he smiled, sad and guilty. "But… when you're ready, I have a lot to share." His smile turned more hopeful as she returned it. 

"I'd love to hear it." And she would. She'd always had an adventurous heart, even as a girl, and no doubt Elyan had many adventures and shenanigans to share.

He smiled, toothy and relieved, and she felt at peace. They had a lot to discuss, a lot to work through, but they would get there. In that moment she knew; they were siblings, and nothing would break their bond, not even this. 

"Custard creams, and hob nobs," Arthur declared grandly as he entered the room, two plates of biscuits in hand. "Are they to your satisfaction?"

"Yes, thanks," Elyan waved him off. 

"Excellent." With a wink, Arthur stepped back, disappearing off to God knows where.

"That's new," Elyan noted, eyes lingering where Arthur had last been. 

She frowned. "What's new?"

"You and Pendragon."

Gwen almost dropped her mug in surprise. "W-what?"

Elyan smiled. "What, you thought I wouldn't notice?" At seeing her no doubt startled expression, his smile faltered. "Gwen…" he leant back slightly, crossing his ankles. "He looks at you like you hung the moon; like you're his entire world. Don't think I don't know what a man in love looks like."

She blushed, stammering an excuse, but he waved her off.

"And I remember how you looked at Lancelot." He eyed her meaningfully. "You look at him the same way."

She fell silent, eyes wide, shocked.

"You  _ do, _ " Elyan protested, reading the doubts on her face. 

Gwen swallowed, mind spinning. She knew she loved Arthur- of course she did. He was one of the easiest people to love; kind, loyal, honourable and sweet, it was  _ terrifying  _ how easily she loved him. But to love him as much as Lancelot? Her first love, the man that broke her young, naive heart? 

"You love him Gwen, but it seems like even you don't know how much."

Damn Elyan for still being able to read her like a book, after all these years. 

"I love him with all my heart," she spoke carefully, the true depth of that love unravelling before her as she spoke, like a cavern yawning into existence. "As does he."

Elyan smiled. "Then I'm happy for you both. And your secret is safe with me." He winked, dunking a hob nob in his tea. "Of course," he added, casual as could be, "I'll have to have a little chat with him. Man to man."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Maybe he should be scaring  _ you _ off right now," she muttered under her breath.

She felt herself smile at his laugh; a carefree, happy sound that she had missed. It was comforting, familiar. Nostalgic. 

It made something warm settle in her chest, something that warmed her, eased some of the brittleness that had settled there. It made her happy, perhaps happier than she'd ever been since he left.

* * *

People started turning up not long after that, bringing alcohol and more food than she could possibly eat with them. 

"Merry Christmas," Merlin greeted, pulling her into a hug. "Missed you already."

She laughed. "Come on inside, you'll catch your death out here."

He rolled his eyes, smiling. “Am I terribly late?”

“No worse than usual,” she teased, making him laugh as she led him through the house. “Help yourself, there’s plenty of food.”

“It looks fantastic!”

“It tastes even better,” Gwaine interrupted, coming over. “But you look delicious, too,” he winked, making Merlin blush. 

“For God’s sake, Gwaine,” she sighed.

“No,” Merlin smiled, “It’s okay.”

Gwaine’s grin turned wicked. “Well isn’t that just music to my ears?”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “I’m going to find Leon,” she mumbled. “At least  _ he’s _ sensible and-” She broke off as she saw a very nervous Leon talking to Mithiam. “I feel so betrayed.”

She caught Arthur’s amused eye, who only shrugged. At least  _ he _ was making friends with Percival, and the two of them looked to be having a grand old time together. 

It was nice to see everybody getting along, though, she had to admit. Very nice. 

* * *

Midnight found Arthur carrying the plates into the kitchen, giving them a quick wash before they filled up the sink. He had rolled up his sleeves and was elbow deep in the warm water when he realised that he wasn’t alone. 

“So,” they said, coming to stand next to them. Arthur turned his head, surprised to see Elyan. “You and Gwen.”

Arthur kept his face carefully blank, tendons in his forearms fluttering as he scrubbed. He kept his eyes on his hands. “I’m sorry, Mister Elyan, I don’t know what you mean.”

Elyan snorted, crossing his arms as he rested his hip against the worktop. “She told me everything, don’t worry. She can’t hide anything from me, never has.”

Arthur looked up at him, lips pursed. “Is that so.”

“Of course, as her big brother you’ll understand that if you do anything to hurt her I’ll make you wish you were never born, yada yada.” Elyan’s smile was intact, but his eyes had sharpened. 

Arthur grunted. “That’s… not going to be a problem.” He removed his hands from the water, drying them on a tea towel as he met Elyan’s gaze unflinching. “You have my word.”

Elyan’s eyes crinkled, suddenly turning warm as he laughed, slapping a bemused Arthur’s shoulder. “I’m only messing with you,” he snorted. “She can take care of herself.”

Arthur smiled wryly. “Indeed.”

Elyan hummed, considering, his hand a warm weight on Arthur’s shoulder. “I like you, Arthur. She’d better take good care of you.”

Arthur’s smile turned shy, and he felt his cheeks warm slightly as he ducked his head. “I- thank you,” he said, surprised. 

“I’ll make a decent man out of you yet.”

* * *

It was in the early hours of the morning, and the small number of guests were beginning to excuse themselves. Gwen stayed up to wish every one a goodnight, and when it was just her, Arthur and Elyan, she kissed her brother’s cheek goodnight and took Arthur’s hand, pulling him upstairs.

“Pa won’t be home until mid-morning- he always spends the night with his friends and then goes to see Mum in the morning,” she yawned, words slightly slurred. “You can stay with me.” She wriggled her eyebrows playfully.

Arthur smiled, fond, letting himself be pulled. “Yeah? I get you to myself all night, Angel?” He stopped, pulling her towards him and crushing their mouths together, licking into her mouth. “You taste like wine and sugar.” He lifted her chin to kiss her again, and again, until she pulled away, laughing. 

It was a bright and happy sound that warmed him from inside; it made his grin turn loopy, he knew, but he didn’t much care when it felt so good, when  _ she _ felt so good in his arms. “We’re not in my room,” she whispered loudly.

“No,” he agreed, kissing her again. 

She giggled, pulling him again. It was a big house- far,  _ far _ , too big, in Arthur’s opinion, when they had to walk for what felt like hours to get to her room. But finally they made it, and he could kiss her, and pull her down on top of him as he fell on the bed. 

“You’d better brush your teeth.” He pulled away, kissing her nose. 

“I’m too comfy,” she sighed, rolling so that they lay on their sides, facing each other.

“Mm,” he agreed, tangling their legs together and pressing against her. Her head lay against his chest, and she closed her eyes against the steady  _ thump, thump _ of his heart. “I need to get undressed eventually, though.”

She grunted. “Worry about that later,” she yawned. 

They fell silent for a while, her hand tracing random patterns on his skin as she lost herself to her thoughts. “Did Elyan speak to you?” 

“He did, but he was nice,” he reassured her. “It was nice, actually. That he knew.”

“Yeah,” she agreed softly. “It was.”

“Did he say how long he’s staying for?” Now it was his turn to yawn, catching her hand and entwining their fingers as he placed them against his chest. 

“Depends on if he can find a job.”

Arthur hummed. 

“Did he warn you off?” She bit her lip, slightly worried, confused when Arthur tipped his head back and laughed. 

“Kind of,” he admitted, “But then he told me that he knew you could take care of yourself so he wasn’t too serious about it.”

She smiled. “I’m surprised he wasn’t a bit worse, after Lance,” she admitted. 

Arthur hummed thoughtfully. “He likes me,” he grinned smugly. 

“He likes everyone,” she said dryly. “Not much of a feat.”

“But he likes  _ me _ .” There was something wondrous about the way Arthur said it, about the way it brought a smile to his face that he couldn’t stop. It sounded almost like it was a novel experience, and it made Gwen’s heart ache in sympathy. 

“I’m sure he does,” she agreed, kissing his neck, smiling as he shivered. “You’re very likeable, most of the time.”

He huffed. “I’m likeable  _ all _ the time, Angel, thank you very much.”

“Merlin thought you were a prat,” she pointed out. 

Arthur scowled. “He’s just got to warm up to me, is all,” he muttered. “I’m perfectly likeable when you get past first impressions.”

“Sure,” she teased. 

He growled playfully, rolling on top of her. “Stop being mean,” he whined, hands moving to her waist. “Or I’ll tickle you.”

“You wouldn’t!”

He raised a brow, hands tightening, and she scowled. “Fine, you’re ‘perfectly likeable’.”

He grinned swooping to give her a peck on the lips. “Damn right I am,” he winked. 

She grumbled to herself, ignoring his laugh as he spooned her, arms coming to wrap around her waist and pull her against his chest. “You can’t threaten to tickle me everytime I say something you don’t agree with.”

“Sure I can.”

She would have retorted, but she had already fallen asleep. 

And, if the next morning they both pretended to be asleep far longer than what they normally did, well. It wasn’t often that they got the chance to wake up together, and that Christmas morning felt special, magical. They didn’t want to break it by getting up and having to face the world. 

"Merry Christmas, Angel," he eventually whispered against her lips, coaxing her into trading lazy kisses. 

"Merry Christmas." 

By the time they’d gotten up and dressed, it was much later than what they thought it was and, to their horror, Tom was already home and waiting for them. 

He raised an eyebrow as he saw them come down the stairs together, a faint smile gracing his lips. “Merry Christmas, you two,” he greeted mildly. “Would have been nice if you’d have waited until after New Years to come clean, though. I had two hundred pounds on you telling me  _ next  _ year.”

Gwen’s mouth fell open, and Arthur laughed, slightly shrill. “Of course,” she shook her head. “Of course you knew.”

Tom winked, tapping the side of his nose. “Nothing gets past me, Gwenny. You should know that by now.” He turned to Arthur, smiling warmly. “I would say welcome to the family, but you’ve kind of always  _ been _ part of it.”

Arthur looked taken aback, but touched. “I- thank you.” He smiled, small and vulnerable, but brimming with joy. “Thank you.”

“Well come on, then. We’ve been waiting to open the presents for hours,” Elyan grumbled, appearing next to his father in the most ridiculous, fluffiest pyjamas and socks Gwen had ever seen. 

“I’ll make some hot chocolate,” Arthur managed, looking slightly faint. 

“Nonsense. There’s presents for you, too.”

Arthur blinked. “Me?”

“Sure. When I heard you were staying for Christmas I couldn’t let you get nothing. Come on, today you’re not our butler- you’re part of the family.”

Gwen smiled, squeezing Arthur’s hand; he looked like he was going to burst into tears. “Merry Christmas, Arthur,” she stretched to kiss his cheek. “Let’s not keep Elyan waiting; he’s a nightmare at Christmas.”

Arthur’s grip on her hand was almost painfully tight as he smiled at her, eyes slightly wet. “Right. Merry Christmas to us, I suppose.” 

She laughed. “Looks like we had nothing to worry about.”

Arthur smiled, looking overwhelmed. “No,” he supposed, “I guess not.”

* * *

She was  _ very _ glad her father knew about them, because there was no way she  _ wasn't  _ going to snog him stupid when he'd bought her that dress they'd seen when they'd gone to town together. 

"Now you can be my queen as well as my angel," he'd winked when she'd opened it, rendered speechless.

She practically pounced on him, making sure he knew just how much she loved it and him.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for any typos, I am incapable of editing my writing 99% of the time, and I typed most of this on my phone.


End file.
